When I began to write this piece, it had been quite some time since I’d focused on my “Salvadoran” side. Since the end of the war, I’d explored other realms that called to me, especially Mexico and the borderlands and, more broadly, the desert lands of the American West. I lived away from Los Angeles for nearly a decade and had only brief encounters with El Salvador during that time: a lonely pupusería in Albuquerque; hearing my aunt’s voice on the phone long-distance from Guatemala. A few months ago, I returned to my hometown and the circuit was restored. You can’t live in Los Angeles and not have contact with Salvadorans in some way—through the labor economy, through music or food, through the political impact their presence has had on the city.
The phone rang in my office one day while I was writing, and I heard the voice of a comrade from the solidarity days, a Salvadoran painter who was always there to offer a sketch for an event flyer. He rendered his subjects simply and clearly. He said that he’d heard I was back in town, and would I like to come to a celebration of the life and work of Roque Dalton that was happening in a few days? There would be poetry and music, he said, and plenty of pupusas.
Address Book
El Buen Gusto Restaurant 3140 Glendale Blvd. (323-953-9032). El Nuevo Rincón 1811 W. 7th St. (213-989-0559). Mi Querido Pulgarcito 2500 W. Pico Blvd. (213-388-6635). Pupusería La Fé 2827 W. Sunset Blvd. (323-912-1909).
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